It Never Goes Away (It Just Gets Easier)
by Eavis
Summary: This was never going to be this long but it kind of exploded so oops? Could also be titled How Erica Came To Be Pack. Erica's POV. Lots of pack feelings and dynamics and Christmas feelings too. 8th in my au series It's A Pack Thing (You Wouldn't Understand).


Erica knows she doesn't fit in. She hasn't since she was diagnosed with medically refractory epilepsy in third grade, but it still hurts to be reminded of it. She still hears the snickers and sometimes-muttered-but-more-often-just-said-out loud jibes and sly digs as she walks through the halls. She knows the jocks have been a little confused about her status ever since she's started hanging out with Stiles and Allison – she's not quite the pariah she used to be, but she definitely isn't going to win any popularity contests. She smirks wryly to herself as she dumps her English books in her locker and heads to Chemistry – she's not winning any popularity contests either at school or at 'home'.

She'd been fairly certain when she was first placed with the Dowlings that they'd only taken her as a favor to Mr. Stewart, the county supervisor for CPS, because Ellen Dowling was a nurse and therefore (theoretically) the most qualified to take care of Erica during her episodes. In reality, Ellen, though she seemed to mean well, was already too busy caring for her own five children (two of whom were still toddlers) to spare much time or extra love on the weird epileptic girl living in her house, and her work-a-holic husband was no help. Erica gives a quiet snort as she settles into her seat and pulls a pen and paper out of her bag to 'take notes' (read: draw all the symbols of all the superheroes ever). In eight years Stiles was the first person to talk to her for more than two sentences. Oh, there had been people that had tried; people who'd felt sorry for her or seemed to think they had something in common, but Erica hadn't wanted their pity or to commiserate over their shared weakness. And once they figured out what a freak she was they wouldn't want to be friends anymore anyway. She'd found that out the hard way after she had befriended a new girl her freshman year. She thought maybe she finally had a friend, but then she had a seizure one day during class and the other girl had politely edged out of her life after that. Not that Erica blames her; she wouldn't want to be friends with a freak either. The worst part is there's nothing she can do to fend off the seizures and no way to tell when they'll happen. Erica shudders and deliberately pulls her thoughts away from that. There's probably no scientific backing, but sometimes she feels that when she's been thinking about her epilepsy it actually causes seizures. Most of the time they aren't too bad, and she hasn't had a grand mal for years, but the shame of waking up from a seizure to find she had lost control of one or more of her bodily functions is only mitigated by the fact that she's never had to watch herself seize.

Harris is saying something about a quiz next week and she pulls herself together long enough to make a note of it between her sketch of Thor's hammer and Spawn's logo.

Ten minutes later Erica's body stiffens, her gaze goes vacant, and her body begins to convulse, drawing shouts of shock and alarm and causing the students near her to jump out of their seats and back away as fast as they can, faces twisted in disgust. Mr. Harris sends a boy to get the nurse and, with a poorly concealed look of aversion on his own face, moves Erica onto her side so she won't choke on her own saliva. By the time Nurse Brent gets there the seizure is over and Erica is already hunching into herself, avoiding everyone's eyes, but especially Allison and Stiles'. She doesn't want to see their pity – or worse, their disgust. The nurse tells her she'll drive her home and to take it easy the rest of the day and Erica nods and allows herself to be fussed over and bundled into Ms. Brent's four-door and taken home where she assures the nurse she'll be fine – "My foster mother is a nurse too, so she can take care of anything I'd need," – and huddles miserably into bed with chocolate and her Batman comics. She needs to read about Catwoman kicking some butt and not think about how not only does her medication give her acne and make her gain weight, it also doesn't keep her from confirming her reputation as a freak in the middle of Chemistry.

Erica drags herself out of bed the next morning, already dreading facing the day. The days after seizures are always the hardest – not only do her muscles ache from the convulsions, but the stares and whispers and mocking jeers of 'freak' and 'weirdo' and 'sport' follow her all throughout the school day. She pulls on her old comfort hoodie with "Don't Blink" written on the back and a picture of a weeping angel on the front and grabs her bookbag before slouching her way to the door and down to catch the bus.

She takes a seat at the very back and thus avoids most of the stares and giggles and whispers, but they're as loud as the crashing of a tsunami as she walks past them into the school and to her locker. She sees Stiles coming down the hall, talking to Scott and Boyd about something with his arms and body flailing as he illustrates something or other to them. She turns quickly to her locker, busying herself straightening and tidying books that don't need straightened or tidied. She doesn't want to see their eyes pass over and through her.

But then Erica hears them stop behind her at a low word from Boyd and she thinks despairingly, _they're going to either apologize and tell me they don't want to be seen with me again because I'm such a freak or they're just going to apologize and pity me_. But she turns around and pastes a smile on her face. "Hey, guys."

"Hey," Boyd grins, "So we were wondering –"

"-I thought of it first-" Scott throws in, almost whining.

"-we were wondering," Boyd goes on, not looking at Scott, "since it's sort of December –"

"It can't be 'sort of' a month, dude," Stiles complains.

"- since it's the middle of December, if you wanted to come over to Stiles' house and help us bake Christmas cookies. Allison's coming and maybe Lydia?" He looks at Stiles. "Have you heard back from her yet?"

"Not for sure." Stiles looks at Erica expectantly. "You up for it?"

Her gaze slides disbelievingly from one hopeful face in front of her to the next. "You…want _me_…to come bake Christmas cookies with…you? And Lydia? This would be _Lydia Martin_, correct? The same Lydia Martin who is dating the biggest jock in school and cares more about her lip-gloss looking perfect than orphans starving in Africa?"

Scott shifts uncomfortably. "She's gotten better. I mean, yeah, she's still kind of a jerk – jerkess? Jerkette? – but she's not…too bad. Now."

Erica huffs a laugh that might be disbelief of Lydia's professed change or still disbelief that people who hang out with Lydia Martin are inviting her to come bake cookies. "Um, okay? I guess? I'd need a ride, though."

"I got it," Boyd says easily, then queries, "You don't mind my sister coming, do you? She was…pretty sick last week and I'm kinda trying to keep her close, y'know?"

Erica doesn't, but she assures Boyd she doesn't mind in the least and then the Scott and Boyd go off to Algebra and Stiles and Erica make a mad dash for English before the late bell rings.

She and Stiles spend most of it writing notes back and forth and Stiles' earnest faces are priceless as he tries to convince her that "No, Erica, there is _nothing_ sexy about Loki trying to kill Thor and wipe out an entire race" - even if she does get in trouble for chuckles that aren't quite smothered enough.

During lunch she purposely arrives early and picks an empty table to sit at while she waits for the (still inevitable) social rejection. Hanging out while not in school is one thing; sitting with the local pariah during lunch in full view of every one is akin to social suicide. So she startles when a tray bangs down beside her and Allison swings a leg over the bench. "Hey, Erica, how's it – dang it, I forgot a drink. Watch my food a minute, will you?"

Erica has barely a second to blink before Scott is dropping his own tray down beside Allison's and Stiles and Boyd set theirs across from them. "Okay, Erica, please tell Boyd that there is no way we are going to see the new Twilight movie and I don't care how much he begs."

Boyd is making gagging motions behind Stiles' back and Erica grins, relaxing a little. This, at least, is familiar territory. Maybe they're not even going to mention what happened yesterday. "Oh, I don't know, Stiles, if Boyd wants to see it I think we should support him."

Scott almost spits out his mouthful of half-chewed fries. "Boyd wants to go see Twilight? That's a _girl's_ movie! And the werewolves are all wrong!"

Erica slides him an amused smirk. "They're 'all wrong'? As opposed to in Wolfman, where they're completely historically accurate?"

Scott opens his mouth, then glances at Stiles and shuts it again, subsiding with only a shake of his head.  
"Have you ever read the books?" Allison asks, sounding curious, and Stiles says, "I read the first one."

Everyone looks at him and he shrugs, a slight flush tingeing the tips of his ears. "I wanted to see what all the hype was about."

"Did you like them?" Erica asks, trying very hard not to laugh.

He shrugs again, but before she can tease an answer out of him she's distracted by the appearance of Lydia at their table.

"Hey, Lydia, what's up?" Stiles tilts his head enquiringly.

"Just checking to see if you need me to pick anything up before this afternoon. Boyd said we were making gingersnaps and gingerbread and spice cookies but we are making chocolate chip cookies too, right? Do we need chocolate?"

"Um." Stiles looks at little helplessly at Scott. "Do we need chocolate chips? I can't remember if you ate the rest of that bag or not the other night."

Lydia huffs impatiently. "'The rest of the bag'? That's definitely a 'yes' on the needing chocolate. You can't make chocolate chip cookies with a half-empty bag of chips. I'll see you at three thirty." She sweeps back off to the cool table and drops gracefully to sit by Jackson with a quick kiss to his cheek. Erica feels her liking for the other girl go up a grudging notch. Anyone who knows the proper ratio of chocolate to cookie can't be _completely_ evil.

Julia is a beautiful seven-year-old, animated and almost inconceivably lady-like, her thick black hair tamed into two fat braids. She takes control of the conversation almost right away and she and Erica discuss favorite fairy tales the whole way from the elementary school to Stiles' house. Julia's favorite is one Erica has never heard of – Princess Irene from The Princess and the Goblins. Julia gives an enthusiastic rundown of what happens in the story, acting bits and pieces out and giving characters difference voices, confiding that "Boyd reads it to me like a movie with difference people and all. He's really good at reading, and sometimes he reads me _two_ chapters at night instead of one!"

Erica, with a sidelong glance at Boyd, who is looking steadily at the road and not at his chattering little sister, replies that she wishes she had a brother to read her stories at night.

"You mean you don't have a big brother?" Julia looks shocked at Erica's headshake, and promptly offers, "You can share Boyd, if you want! Except I get him more because he was mine first and he lives at my house, but you can come see him lots and stay while he reads!"

Boyd says, glancing apologetically at Erica, "Jule, I don't think Erica has time to –"

"I'd love to come," Erica interrupts, then she abruptly realizes that Boyd probably doesn't want her hanging around butting in on his family time and quickly adds, "But I don't want to mess up your routine or anything and you're probably really busy anyway so never mind."

"No, no – I mean, you can totally come if you want, I just –" Boyd slides her a sideways grin. "It's just me reading kids' books – it's not anything special."

Erica meets his eyes steadily. "Yeah. It kinda is."

There's an awkward silence then for a moment, before Julia fills it with a question about Erica's favorite fairy tale. She says Little Red Riding Hood, which for some reason makes Boyd look at her quickly and then away again with a weird smile, but before she can call him on it they're pulling into Stiles' driveway.

Inside there's already a flurry of activity as four teenagers try to accomplish something in the same crowded workspace. Stiles greets them as they walk in, looking frazzled. "Hey, guys, come on – _what_ Scott? I don't know where the cooking spray is! Check the baking cupboard! – come on in; drop your coats anywhere, hi Julia, good to see you again."

"What are we making?" Boyd helps Julia out of her coat and takes her hand to lead her into the dining room.

"Allison and Scott are eating – oh, _excuse _me, I mean _making_ – gingersnaps. I'm making gingerbread, Lydia's making chocolate chip cookies and we still need someone to make gingerbread men. You guys up for it?"

Erica looks down at Julia. "You ready?"

She tucks her chin in and mimes smoking a cigar. "I was born ready."

Stiles' jaw drops. "Boyd, did your _seven-year-old sister_ just quote Big Trouble In Little China?"

He looks offended. "No!" Then a little shamefacedly, "…she may have quoted Ocean's 13."

Erica doubles over laughing and Scott calls from the other room, "I hope you're a fast hand with the mute button, dude, or I wouldn't want to be you explaining to your parents!"

"I'm _awesome_ with a mute button," Boyd says, and then Stiles is shaking his head and ushering them into the dining room. "You can have the other end of the table."

Lydia looks up when they come in from measuring flour into a mixing bowl and her eyes glance over Erica, taking in her nerdy (awesome) sweatshirt and hair pulled back into a messy, half-falling out (functional) braid and worn (comfortable) jeans and then looks her in the eyes and Erica braces for the sneer or, worse, polite, plastic smile, but instead Lydia grins. "Chocolate chip?" She offers. "I bought extra to snitch while we work."

Erica finds herself smiling back. "That's the best way to eat chocolate."

"Can I do the flour?" Julia asks her brother eagerly.

"_And_ the eggs," Boyd promises.

They settle into a comfortable rhythm, Erica finding the ingredients and Boyd measuring them and Julia dumping them. She successfully locates the flour, shortening, brown sugar, molasses, eggs, and cinnamon, but runs out of luck with the white vinegar. She checks to make sure none of the others have it – Scott and Allison and Stiles have been trading around most of the other ingredients – but no one does, so she goes in search of Stiles to ask where it might possibly be. Lydia had pulled him aside a few minutes earlier and they'd disappeared into the living room, so she starts there. As she raises her hand to knock at the doorframe to let them know she's there she hears her name and can't keep herself from waiting to hear what they're talking about.

Stiles is saying, "…but you're sure it's taken care of now? No one knows it was Erica and no one can see it?"

Lydia shakes her head. "No. Danny even set up an alternate page that it'll link to if anyone tries to click it. It says something to the effect of 'you're a douche screw off'."

"Fantastic." Stiles reaches up as if to run a hand over his head and then aborts the movement at the last second. "What do you think about what Allison suggested? About offering her you-know-what?"

Lydia sighs. "We don't even know if it'll help."

"But there's a pretty good chance."

"Well, yeah, according to the research I've done it could help a lot as long as her body doesn't reject it. Have you talked to Derek about it?"

"I mentioned it. He didn't say yes, of course, but he did say he'd think about it, which a good sign. It was just after the full moon, though, so he was pretty wiped out."

"That may not have been the best time to bring it up – he just had been dealing with Scott and Jackson all night, after all.."

Stiles' lips twist. "True. He did say he might come over later tonight."

"To eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we may diet?"

"Something like that, yeah. I think he more –" Stiles breaks off as Boyd says cheerfully (and loudly) from behind Erica, "Hey, did you ask Stiles about the vinegar?"

Stiles and Lydia exchange glances and then Stiles says, "Erica?"

She steps around the corner, feeling (and looking) sheepish. "Sorry, I just came to ask where the vinegar might be except then I heard my name and I listened – sorry."

From behind her Boyd says quietly to Stiles, "Do you want me to get Scott?"

Stiles exchanges another glance with Lydia that contains an entire screenplay and then nods. "Yeah. And Allison. Then maybe you and Julia can finish your cookies and put the tea kettle on? We'll try to be quick so you're not waiting long. Erica, come in and have a seat. We have a couple things to tell you."

Heart sinking, for no matter how it sounded earlier, there's no way these 'couple things' can be good news, she moves forward and lowers herself onto the couch. Scott appears in the doorway, Allison just behind him. "Stiles, are you sure this is a good idea?" Allison elbows him in the ribs. "Of course it is – it was my idea to start with." She drops onto the couch beside Erica. "You can stop looking like we're a firing squad and you're the next victim. We have good news. Well, probably it's good news."

"First," Lydia says, taking a seat on the end of the recliner and leaning back against Stiles' legs, "we have good news and bad news, and they're sort of a package deal."

"What do you mean?" Erica asks warily. She still doesn't trust Lydia, offers of chocolate aside.

"Allison?"

"Well," Allison begins, biting her lip, "you know how you had a seizure yesterday?"

Erica stares. "You mean the one that I lived through that made me even more of a laughing-stock? Yes, I know."

"Right." The other girl looks embarrassed, but perseveres, "so some really twisted kid, um, sort of – well, he recorded it on his phone and put it on youtube."

Erica sits absolutely still. This is worse than she even could have imagined. "So now not only all of Beacon Hills but the entire universe gets to see what a freak I am? Fan-frigging-tastic."

"No." Stiles leans forward, more serious than she's ever seen him. "It only had five views when Jackson found out about it and told Lydia and she told me and we got a hacker friend of ours to obliterate that kid's computer with about a million viruses and deleted the video and there is no way anyone could ever find it."

Erica is grateful, she really is, and she's a little overwhelmed that these people she just met a month ago would go to all this trouble, but now there's a precedent - "Guys, I can't – there's no way I can thank you enough for doing all this, but now someone's done it once, the next time I have – I have a seizure there will be fifteen more."

Allison puts a hand on Erica's knee. "Not if you don't have another seizure."

Erica snorts, blinking back sudden tears. "Yeah, well, I've been to about a hundred different doctors and specialists and I have medically refractory epilepsy – all the normal medications don't work for me."

"We're – not talking about normal medications." Scott shifts uneasily. "Look, do you promise not to freak out?"

"Why, do you have magic hair that glows when you sing and will heal me?" Erica snarks, wiping angrily at her eyes.

"Something like that." Allison answers, and Erica looks around at them all and feels her jaw drop. "Holy crap. You guys are serious. You actually think you have something that will help me?"

"Yeah, we do," Lydia says, "but first, we have to tell you something about Scott and explain a couple things."

"What about Scott?" Erica asks, looking at the boy across from her with his cheerful grin and lopsided jaw and perpetually messy hair.

"Just – watch," he says, and then his eyes start glowing gold like someone out of _Merlin_ and his forehead goes all lumpy and gets more hair and his teeth get longer until they start to look like _fangs_ and _sweet Batman on a cupcake_ _those are claws_. Erica prides herself on being a logical thinker, so she looks at the evidence in front of her and quite calmly (for the situation at hand) comes to the conclusion, "You're a werewolf."

Scott's face and hands go back to normal. "Uh – yeah."

She laces her hands together. "Okay."

"You're…not going to freak out?" Allison asks cautiously.

"Probably. Right now I feel like I'm high on the best drugs Beacon Hills' hospital has to offer, so probably I'll freak once I come down off them. Right now I want to know why you think Scott being a werewolf is going to cure me."

"Well, according to Derek," Stiles begins, and Erica interrupts, "Who's Derek? I heard you mention him before."

"He's the alpha werewolf,"

"and never lets us forget it," Scott mutters.

"And he was born a werewolf, so he knows the most about this stuff. He says being a werewolf means you pretty much have a rock-solid immune system and you basically can't get sick. Also you heal super fast from bullet holes and getting thrown into trees."

"So you think if Scott turns me into a werewolf I might not have epilepsy any more?" Erica feels a surge of hope. Never having to deal with busy, uncaring doctors and cold, sterile hospitals and drugs that don't work and staring and laughter and in exchange being able to do whatever she wants whenever she wants.

"Not Scott, he can't turn people. Only alphas can, but we think Derek will give it to you if you ask him."

"It's not all perks, though," Scott says quietly. "In the first place you have to learn control and that's not easy – every full moon you feel so _angry_ and you want to rip out the throat of anything within a mile radius. And even once you've learned control and you're reasonably confident you won't kill the people you love, there are still…people who think you're just a mindless beast who's gone darkside and needs to be put down."

"The people he's talking about are my family," Allison interrupts, her jaw clenching. "They're werewolf hunters. Right now they don't know there are more werewolves than Derek and Scott and my dad's agreed not to try to kill them, but if they found out that Derek's turned two more people I don't know how he'd react."

"Two more?"

"Jackson is also a werewolf." Lydia says.

This almost sets off a whole other round of questions, but Allison reminds them that Boyd and Julia are still making cookies and they've already been gone far too long, so they all troop back into the kitchen and dining room. Erica joins Boyd and Julia just as they begin rolling out the first batch of gingerbread dough. "Hey, Stiles, do you have cookie cutters?"

"I think so; hang on a sec and I'll look." Stiles burrows in a corner cupboard and emerges triumphantly after a moment holding a dusty canister of cookie cutters. "Found them!"

Julia takes control of them with all the possessive dictatorship of a seven-year-old and doles them out. "Boyd, you get the gingerbread man because you're a boy and Erica you get the girl because you're a girl and I get the star because I love stars the best."

The little girl hums happily to herself as she punches out stars, but Erica has a lot to think about as she methodically cuts out gingerbread girls and lays them carefully on the cookie sheets. On the one hand there isn't very much of a dilemma at all – choose the bite and be healthy, beautiful, popular, _powerful_, or stay an overweight, nerdy outcast, but she knows it's not that cut and dried. There are definite cons to be weighed as well. The learning control Scott talked about, and getting along with the other members of her 'pack' and spiders but that's freaky to think about. The bite comes with a family ready-made. An obviously dysfunctional, messed up family, but no matter what protests Scott makes about Derek not being _his_ alpha and him not being pack with _Jackson_, she can tell they already have a never-to-be-mentioned-or-broken weird bond thing going on. Hence the reason Derek is coming later tonight and Lydia keeps getting texts from Jackson every two minutes. She wonders briefly what exactly happened to bring them together like this, but then goes back to wondering if she should ask for the bite. She wants to, wants to desperately, almost more for the pack element than the magic healing (although that's definitely a strong incentive) because she hasn't felt the comfort of being surrounded by unconditional love since she was eight and she and her mother were at church together the Sunday after Erica had been diagnosed and her mother held her close as the congregation rose to sing the first song and whispered, "Whatever happens with this, Erica, remember we love you for longer than forever," and Erica had been confused at first because even then she knew her dad didn't love her, didn't give two craps about her. And later when she was older and her mother was dead and she was pushed onto the first available foster family and she remembered what her mother said, she only felt bitter because her mother was dead dead _dead_ and now where was the God who her mother said would always love her? She presses too hard down into the dough in front of her that she can hardly see and bites back a curse at the deformed gingerbread lady she's made. She begins to roll her up and start over when she pauses, looks at the freakish looking cookie again, and slowly places it on the tray with the rest of them. Boyd glances from it to her and then turns his attention back to his own dough, but a minute later out of the corner of her eye she sees him put a deliberately misshapen gingerbread man next to her own. "It's not just you that's a freak," he says, softly so his sister doesn't hear, "we're all freaks here."

And Erica smiles through her tears, both at the Alice In Wonderland reference and the sentiment, and later that night, when Julia is asleep on Stiles' bed because it's late but they've all been having too much fun to go home and go to bed, after Derek and Jackson have deigned to join them (and eat far more than their fair share of the desserts) Erica nervously asks Derek if he'll give her the bite.

He looks at her solemnly as around them arguments and conversations die away in the wake of Erica's question and says, "I assume the others already told you about the downsides of it."

She nods. "Yeah, and I thought of several more, but I think the good outweighs the bad."

"And what I'm sure Scott told you even if no one else did –"

"-I would have-" Jackson mutters.

"- is that I'm not a very good alpha yet, if you want to be a part of my pack. I don't always know what I'm doing and I'm going to make stupid mistakes and mess things up but I do promise to try."

And Erica knows that, because Boyd and Scott have spent most of the evening after Julia went to bed and before Derek and Jackson came telling her stories about their adventures killing all the supernatural monsters that seemed to find Beacon Hills suddenly very attractive. Scott mostly told her about how often Allison kicked butt and complained about Derek's training sessions in between and Boyd mostly told her in so many words about how Derek had told him after a particularly nasty fight with a kelpie (the kelpie was after the acheri but before the skinwalker and the poltergeist) that he "might as well come to the next training session with the rest of the pack if he was going to keep being a damn fool and sticking his neck out almost as much as Stiles does" and how the training sessions were fun "as long as you aren't afraid of hard work" – that said while looking pointedly at Scott, who just muttered something about hard work and getting thrown into trees not being the same thing.

"I know," Erica says out loud, "I still want the bite, and I want to be part of your pack."

Derek exhales. "Okay. Do you – do you want everyone to stay? Or just a couple people?"

"I want Stiles to stay," Erica says immediately. "And Boyd. Please."

Stiles looks supremely surprised, but he moves to sit next to Erica and gives her a couple awkward-but-still-somehow-comforting pats on the shoulder. Boyd sits down on her other side and the rest of the pack melts away back into the kitchen. Derek moves so he's kneeling in front of her, and his face shifts slowly until it looks like Scott's had earlier, except more rugged and without the puppy eyes. Derek's eyes are shuttered, only a hint of whatever lies behind them showing through as he locks them with Erica's. "Are you sure?" He asks, the words almost lisped because of the fangs – oh God in heaven _fangs_ – and Erica swallows hard. "Will it hurt?"

"A little," he says, "but I can take most of the pain right away. It's a gift we have."

Without looking away from Derek, she fumbles for Boyd and Stiles' hands and grasps them tightly. "Okay. Do it."

She braces herself for the pain and shuts her eyes so she won't have to see the alpha's fangs closing on her side (easiest place to conceal a bite). There's a pinch and then, briefly, raw agony that almost makes her scream and does make her black out for a minute, but when she opens her eyes Jackson, Scott, and Derek all have their hands on her and black is leeching into their veins from where they're touching her and traveling up their arms and disappearing almost before it reaches their elbows and the pain dwindles to almost nothing. Stiles is already disinfecting and wrapping her side, his long fingers so dexterous with the medical supplies she has to wonder how many times he's had to do this in the past few months. She takes a deep breath and asks Derek, "How long before we know if my body rejects it or not?"

"By tomorrow," Derek says, and rises fluidly to his feet. "I'll stay nearby in case there are any complications. Can you spend the night here or will that get you in trouble with your…guardians?"

Erica can't keep her lips from twisting. "They won't care. Does Stiles mind?"

"No." Derek says without asking or even looking at Stiles. "Allison, you need to get home or your father will come looking for you with a wolfsbane-loaded shotgun. Jackson, are you with me or Lydia? I don't want any of you alone tonight – there's no telling how Erica will affect the pack bond."

"I'm not technically part of your pack," Scott protests half-heartedly, but he shuts up at a glare from Derek and Stiles says, "Whoever wants to can crash here – there's a couch and a couple air mattresses somewhere around."

"Is your dad going to care?" Erica asks hesitantly, because, well, Stiles' dad kind of is the sheriff, and if he comes home to near strangers asleep in his living room there's a fairly large margin of possibility that says it's not going to end well.

"Nah," Scott answers, surfacing from kissing Allison goodbye. "Stiles and I have sleepovers all the time."

Erica, with difficulty, refrains from pointing out that _one_ person who has been friends with Stiles practically forever spending the night and _five_ people the sheriff barely knows spending the night is not exactly the same thing, and also with a supreme effort of control, keeps herself from mocking Scott for uttering the word "sleepover".

Stiles follows Allison into the kitchen to pack her a container of cookies to take home and Scott follows them because heaven forbid he lets Allison get more than two feet towards the door without another kiss goodnight. Boyd has been rummaging in closets for the air mattresses Stiles mentioned, and now he and Lydia are inflating them and tucking sheets and blankets and pillows Lydia has magically produced from the ether onto them. Boyd disappears up the stairs and comes back down with Julia in his arms, her mouth parted in sleep and adorable snores emitting from her perfect button nose. She snuffles a little in her sleep and Erica feels a quick surge of envy as she rolls over and burrows into her brother's side and Boyd's arms close tight around her. Erica feels a sudden, fierce longing to be held again – not a romantic kind of holding, but a simply comforting one. Lydia disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes and comes out again changed into flannel pajamas. She vanishes underneath the covers on the other side of Boyd and Julia and Jackson joins her without bothering to change. Scott has (finally) finished saying goodnight to Allison and almost jumps into the pile of bodies, to be subdued by a hissed, "Shhhhh!" from Boyd. He ends up on the other side of Julia, just below Erica where she's lying on the couch. She's pretty sure they left her the couch because of her just received bite, but she can't help wishing she were down with them on the mattresses, in amongst the muddle of limbs and sleepy grumbles. Stiles and Derek are talking quietly over by the window, Derek standing there looking sort of like Wolverine at his most angsty and Stiles all muted exclamations and exaggerated gestures. Derek shakes his head at whatever Stiles is saying and – Erica blinks – vanishes out the window. Stiles does a full-body eye roll, throwing up his hands as he shakes his head. He grins sheepishly at Erica when he sees her watching and whispers, "He's allergic to doors."

Erica smiles back and pulls her blanket up higher. The bite's starting to hurt again – more of an ache than the sharp pain it had been at first, but it's not even as bad as some day-after-seizures, so she doesn't say anything to Stiles before he trudges upstairs. She guesses it makes sense for him to sleep in his own bed in his own house, but it is a little surprising, given what she's seen of the tactile nature of the teenagers surrounding her. She wouldn't have taken Boyd for be a touchy-feely kind of guy, but now that she's seen him interact with his sister she's starting to re-think that assessment. Jackson is probably the biggest surprise, she muses as she settles more comfortably on the couch and tries to ignore the growing pain in her side; from what she's seen of him at school the only kind of touching he liked was the kind where he got to shove people into things. But now that she's thinking of it, looking back she can see times recently where Scott's been more demonstrably affectionate with Stiles and even Boyd as well as with Allison. And at the few practices and games she's let Allison drag her to she can remember now a couple times when either Scott or Jackson had gotten knocked over on the field and the other would stop and help them up and maybe hold on the barest millisecond too long for two boys who supposedly hated each other's guts and were only associating with each other because they were co-captains.

Erica shifts again, trying to find a spot on the somewhat lumpy couch that won't aggravate her wound more. The breathing of the others has all evened out into sleep and she can feel her own eyelids getting heavy. The last thing she remembers before dropping off completely is a cool hand touching the side of her neck and taking the last of the pain away.

She wakes up the next morning to the front door banging shut. She wonders why whoever it was felt it was necessary to slam the door on their way out when it was still so early. Yawning, she rolls over and stretches. "Shut _up_, Stiles," she grumbles into her pillow, "some of us are still trying to sleep. You're slaughtering that song and who sings in the shower _anyway_." Then she realizes what she just said and bolts upright. It's a school morning so everyone is up and Lydia and Jackson are fighting over the downstairs bathroom (because apparently Jackson is just as vain about his hair as school rumors always said he was) and Boyd is waking Julia up and attempting to brush some order into her hair. And Stiles…is nowhere in sight. But she can hear him in the shower singing (slaughtering) The Spice Girls. And now that she's properly awake she can hear every word of Lydia and Jackson's argument and hears Derek outside moving and everything is loud loud _loud_ and her own groan as she burrows into her own hands is loudest of all, but then there's a white blur bobbing in front of her and a voice low in her ears that is saying something over and over again and she forces herself to focus on what it's saying and the blob resolves into Derek's face and the noise turns into, "-that's it, Erica, that's right, focus on me, focus on my voice, block out the other noises, good girl, good job, that's it, you've got it." Behind her she hears Julia saying, "But Boyd, what's wrong with Erica? Is she sick? Should we get her some juice? Do you think Stiles has juice in his fridge? Boyd?" and Boyd saying, "Not now, Jule, not now – Erica will be fine, see, Derek's taking care of her, come on now or you're going to be late for school and Ms. Thompson will be sad because you're not there."

"Okay but I want to give her a kiss; can I give her a kiss Boyd?"

"No Julia just –" Boyd tries to catch her but she's already slipped under his arm and darted to land a kiss on Erica's cheek. Before she pulls away Erica turns her head and her arms come around the warm little body. "Thank you, Julia."

"Get better quick!" Julia says, and lets Boyd usher her out with a cheerful wave goodbye.

Derek is sitting back on his heels, looking at her consideringly. "You all right? I'm guessing the Bite took and all this was a result of the feedback from the heightened senses."

Erica nods, pulling up her shirt and peeling away the bandage to reveal the smooth, unscarred skin underneath. She laughs a little disbelievingly. "And the first thing I did as a werewolf was tell Stiles to shut up because I could hear him singing in the shower."

Derek's lips twitch and he comments dryly, "Well, that's a common enough reaction to Stiles in general and _definitely_ to his singing."

There's an offended noise from the doorway and Erica's head swivels to see Stiles standing there with his backpack over one shoulder, Scott just behind him ducking his head to hide a smile. "Hey! I have it on good authority that I have a amazing voice!"

"Amazingly terrible, maybe," Lydia says, pushing past him with Jackson in tow. She looks at Erica. "Do you need to skip school today?"

Now that Erica's had a minute to pull herself together, she realizes that apart from the overwhelming incoming new stimulation, she feels…fantastic, actually. Healthy, in control, and _powerful_. "No, I don't think so." She smiles and welcomes the surge of confidence that rushes through her. "No. I definitely want to go."

Lydia looks her up and down and her smile is knowing. "Then let's get you ready."

Because Lydia is practically perfect in every way, she has an overnight bag with her with an _extra_ extra change of clothes that she lends to Erica. After leaving her alone to take a quick shower and struggle into the clothes, Lydia blows into the bathroom, adjusts the top and pulls the skirt up a little higher and straightens and curls Erica's hair and does her makeup. She steps back and looks at her handiwork with satisfaction. "You have beautiful skin, Erica."

Erica peers self-consciously into the mirror. "I didn't yesterday."

Lydia purses her lips. "One of the perks, I guess. Almost makes me wish I weren't immune, but then again any more perfection would probably be overkill."

Erica raises an eyebrow and reflects that modesty is _not_ an area in which Lydia has attained perfection.

Jackson's waiting for them impatiently because he's driving them to school in the Porsche since Stiles and Scott already left. Derek stops Jackson on his way out the door. "I already told Scott this, but I want to you pay attention. Any sign that she's losing control, you call me. I'll be around."

Jackson rolls his eyes and mutters, "Creeper," but when Derek raises his eyebrows the younger boy ducks his head in acknowledgement of the order and slams his way out of the house and into the car.

The day actually goes surprisingly well. There are the expected number of shocked whispers that sweep the school when Erica Reyes, school freak, walks in with Jackson Whittenmore and Lydia Martin, and rumors explaining why spread like wildfire, but high on her new power and with the knowledge that she's at least twice as strong as any of the jocks who used to humiliate her, Erica sails through the day with a smug smirk, sashaying jauntily into every class.

At lunch she strides into the cafeteria, stopping at Scott and Stiles' table to swipe Boyd's apple and bite into it with a saucy grin. He shakes his head at her but doesn't say anything and she rakes her fingertips through Stiles' buzz before moving gracefully (there's nothing more graceful than a wolf in it's element) to sit next to Lydia at her table, sending the suck-up little freshie who was eyeing the coveted position scurrying with a look. She's _never_ felt this powerful before and she wants to hug the feeling to herself and never let go of it, because she can do anything she wants, now, and no one can stop her.

Someone kicks her ankle and she comes back to earth with a start, glaring at Jackson. He raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes pointedly. She abruptly realizes that she can feel fangs in her mouth and her eyes are probably glowing and reigns her excitement in. She doesn't hear a word any of her teachers say that day, and after the last bell finally rings she bounces up to Scott and Boyd and Stiles where they're talking and says, "Hey, you guys wanna go knock over some lockers or something?"

Scott and Stiles trade glances and Boyd asks, "Um, are you feeling okay, Erica?"

She shrugs, hands stuffed in the pockets of Lydia's leather jacket. "Heck yeah. I feel fantastic. Why?"

"You're just kinda acting…weird," Stiles says, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Weird how?"

"Just – I guess like you're on a power trip? Maybe? And it's kinda freaking me out because to be honest you're reminding me of Lydia before she turned into less of a b- witch," Scott amends, glancing at Stiles.

Erica stills, glancing at the serious faces aligned in front of her. "...you really think I'm like that?"

"Not usually," Stiles says quickly, "just, like Scott said, you're kinda on a power trip right now, which I totally get because now you're like the Black Widow and Catwoman all in one and your levels of awesome are Pluto-high, but Erica, we liked you before, you know. You don't have to, to make yourself into some hardass chick who doesn't _care_ now that you've got superpowers and stuff."

"I get the power rush thing," Scott adds, "I mean, if not for Stiles and Allison I probably would have done something really bad, but I'm getting better at controlling and channeling the power and anger and that kind of thing. I'm pretty sure Derek's going to make you come to training sessions, but if you ever just wanna go for a run or something to burn energy I'm up for it."

Erica smiles, albeit a little weakly. "Thanks."

Stiles slings his backpack over one shoulder. "I'd offer to come with, but I have a feeling you werewolf types would leave my sorry human butt in the dust, so I'll just offer to feed you once you come back." He starts off down the corridor, calling back over his shoulder, "Anyone not at the jeep in two minutes is walking to training!"

Erica lets out a whoop and springs into a run, passing Stiles in seconds. She can hear Scott and Boyd coming fast behind her, but she outstrips them by an arms length and, laughing, swings herself into the front seat. "Turtles get to ride in the back," she says, sticking her tongue out at the boys.

Stiles saunters out a minute later and tosses his backpack into Scott's lap, ignoring the ensuing yelp of surprise, and slides into the driver's seat.

"So what do we do at training?" Erica asks, meekly putting on her seatbelt at Stiles' stern glance.

"Mostly Derek beats us up," Scott says glumly, and Erica laughs.

"It's a lot of hand to hand," Boyd offers, "obviously Derek's been going easier on me and Stiles since we're human, but –"

"Wait, you train too?" Erica looks at Stiles in surprise and he pulls a mock-offended face. "What, like you can't tell?" He flexes. "Look at these guns. Rock hard." He glances in his mirror at Boyd as he says, "But yeah, Derek's been helping us train too – just basic marshal arts stuff, and Allison's been bringing bows and guns and stuff and we're all learning how to do that, too. I wanted a whip like Indiana Jones because that would have been kickass, but Derek just kind of growled at me when I suggested it so now I mostly just use a bat."

Erica blinks. "A bat? Like a baseball bat?"

"Yeah. Well, it's a baseball bat loaded with lead and it's made of ash and dipped in herbs to ward off most of the things that go bump in the night."

"Okay then." Erica twists in her seat to look at Boyd. "Do you have a bat too?"

"Nah," he shakes his head, looking amused, "I'm leaving the MLB to Stiles – Allison gave me one of the shotguns from her dad's house and I've gotten pretty good with it."

"Derek will probably start easy with you," Stiles says, "I mean, since it's your first day in werewolf school and all. He might have you try and track somebody. I think this week we were supposed to be working on team tracking, so I don't know if he'll split you up or not."

Derek does split them up – when they get there he tells them that each of the werewolves will be tracking a human and they can use sight, hearing, and smell to try and find them. The humans get a fifteen minute head start. "Erica, you're tracking Boyd, Jackson, you have Lydia, and Scott, you have Allison. Any questions?"

"Is this a locate-and-retrieve or just a locate?" Allison asks, hoisting her bow in a way that makes it clear that she doesn't plan on making it easy for Scott to 'retrieve' her if that's the case. Scott looks nervous.

"Just locate for today," Derek says, glancing at Erica. "We'll work on hand-to-hand over the weekend. Right now I want you to focus on controlling your senses and not letting them overwhelm you."

Stiles raises his hand. "What am I doing?"

"You're with me," Derek says briefly, and turns to the porch as Stiles mutters "O joy." "Allison, Boyd, Lydia – go."

That afternoon is one of the most exhilarating Erica has ever experienced – she can run as far and as fast as she wants without getting tired and hear a twig snapping twenty yards away and all the _smells_! For the first time she understands why dogs find bushes and mailboxes so fascinating – she doesn't know yet what all the smells mean, but she's _definitely_ looking forward to finding out. She takes an hour longer to find her human than the others; not because she lost Boyd's scent but because there were so many other interesting things she'd never smelled before. Stiles is sitting next to Derek on the steps of Derek's burned out house when she and Boyd finally make their way back and he's breathing heavily but he doesn't smell injured. Derek, on the other hand, has a faint smell of wrongness hanging around him like a cloud and Erica shuffles her feet, feeling uneasy for no reason that she can tell. Off to one side she sees Scott is still fanged out, and even though Jackson is lounging, claws and fangs away, against one of the porch's supports, she can feel the tension rolling off him.

From behind her, Boyd says sharply, "Derek, what's wrong?"

Derek glances at him, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "You can smell it?"

"No, but you're making Erica nervous and I can feel how on edge everyone is."

"Huh," Derek mutters to himself, and then out loud he says, "Stiles and I were…experimenting with a couple things. I _will_ tell you about it but first I want to talk about the training exercise this afternoon."

He goes through a few things they did wrong and what the humans could have done to throw the werewolves off their trail and ends by telling them they'll work more on it next week. He pulls Erica aside to tell her they'll work more later on controlling her new senses, but for right now to picture dials in her head and when something is too loud or a smell is too strong to think of a hand turning the dial down. "But you did good, Erica, for your first time tracking."

Erica feels satisfaction and pride curl around her at his words like a cup of hot chocolate and a roaring fire on a cold day and smiles at Derek gratefully.

Erica, Stiles, and Derek head back to Stiles' house because Derek wants to be close for Erica's first few nights and even he realizes that the Dowlings will probably call the cops if they see him lurking around the house all night, so they just make a detour there so Erica can pack a couple overnight things. She sticks her head into the dining room, where Ellen is trying to feed both toddlers their dinner and get it into their mouths instead of all over their clothes and faces, to say, "I'm spending the night with a friend so I won't be back tonight."

"Okay," Ellen says, distractedly, "Don't forget to take your meds."

Erica laughs, a startled burst of laughter that makes Ellen look up, alarmed, but Erica is already out the door and swinging herself back into the jeep, grinning maniacally. "I just realized I don't have to take any pills or drugs ever again."

Stiles looks envious for about a tenth of a second before he matches her grin. "The Perks of Being a Teenaged Werewolf, huh?"

The sheriff is in the living room watching tv when Erica and Stiles go in. Derek and Stiles had an dispute about Derek spending the night in the house as opposed to on the roof that had the sound of an old argument. Stiles lost, as per usual, so he was complaining to Erica about it as they went in (of course knowing Derek could hear him), and his double-take when he saw his dad on the couch would have been more than slightly hilarious if Erica were less worried about what Stiles' dad will say about he staying here. "Uh, hey, dad – I thought you were working the late shift tonight."

The sheriff turns off the tv and gets to his feet. "I switched with Mario. Oddly enough, Erica, there was something I wanted to talk to you about tonight. It's lucky you're here."

"Uh, yes sir," Erica says, feeling extraordinarily like a five-year-old caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

"Dad? Are we in trouble?"

"You have some reason to think that would be the case?" Stiles' dad raises an eyebrow.

"No! Just – uh, you've kinda got your interrogation face on and it's making me – uh – and Erica a little nervous? Especially if this is actually you announcing you're giving free bags of dried mango out as a gesture of love and gratitude to your son."

"Stiles, why would I ever give you a package of dried mango? You don't even like mango."

"Well learning to like mango is an acceptable alternative to lots of other things?"

The sheriff rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to Erica. "As I was saying, Miss Reyes, if you would care to accompany me to my office I have a question for you."

Erica starts as she suddenly hears Derek's voice sounding as close as if he were standing next to her, saying, "You want me to come in?"

She shakes her head before realizing he can't see her and the sheriff is waiting for an answer so she says out loud, "Can Stiles come too, sir?"

"As long as he keeps his mouth shut." The sheriff turns to lead the way into his office and Erica whispers under her breath to Derek, "I'll tell you if I need you."

She takes a seat, gingerly, on the only empty chair on the near side of the cluttered desk. Stiles starts to clear off one of the other chairs but then leaves it, coming to sit on the floor by her chair. Erica would never say it out loud, but she's grateful to him for it and thankful for the brush of his shoulder against her leg as he leans back. Already she's starting to understand the crush of bodies on the mattress the night before and all the touching that she's noticed. It's not that she's afraid of Stiles' dad - she likes the sheriff in an abstract kind of way and she knows he tried to get her father sent up for life for what he did to her mother and to her, and she can't help but like him for that, but he was also the one who had come and told her that her mother had died and contacted social services to 'take care of her' and even if she knows logically that what happened to her mom and what happened to her aren't his fault, a part of her still associates the sheriff with bad news. She actually remembers Stiles from that time too – his mom had been in the hospital at the same time as hers, though that was still in the days when they had thought she'd recover, and Erica would see him sometimes sitting in the uncomfortable hospital chairs designed to make people want to leave, waiting until the doctors and nurses would let him back in to see his mom. They hadn't ever talked, but there was a sort of weary acknowledgement of the other as one warrior tired of fighting to another.

The sheriff clears his throat and Erica snaps to attention at once. "Sorry, you were saying, sir?"

"Don't worry – it's not bad news and you don't have to say yes or no or anything right now."

"Dad, just spit it out. You're making her nervous." Stiles presses back against Erica's leg and she relaxes fractionally with the contact.

The sheriff gives his son an odd look, but says gently to Erica, "I talked to your social worker because Stiles mentioned that your current living situation might not be…ideal. And it's been a few years since I've fostered, but if you would like to be transferred here I would love to have you in our home for as long as you like. I'm not a nurse, but I do have basic first aid knowledge, so hopefully I'll be able to help with the less serious episodes and we can always call –"

Erica cuts him off with a spontaneous hug. She hears Stiles whoop behind her and can't help a small chuckle. She steps back from the sheriff, feeling self-conscious, but he's smiling – bemusedly, but smiling. "I take it that's a yes?"

"Absolutely yes." Erica grins back.

Stiles drapes himself over her shoulder. "This is awesome! I always wanted a sister for Christmas."

Erica looks eagerly at the sheriff. "I can move in before Christmas?"

He raises an eyebrow, glancing at her overnight bag. "It looks like you've already started. But yes, as soon as Stiles clears out the spare room you can move in whenever you want. There's still a little paperwork to go through, but I think everything will be settled within a week."

"C'mon," Stiles grabs her bag, "I can get the bed at least cleared off for tonight and I think we have clean sheets somewhere…" he leads the way out, still talking, but Erica pauses in the doorway and looks back at the sheriff. "Thank you."

He nods. "Merry Christmas, Erica."


End file.
